A tour of the old Home Town

A River still runs through It

One feature of the town is that a river runs through it- the River Afan. This is one of the old town bridges that the Thompson family of many generations have crossed.

Station Road

The street has been turned into a pedestrian way and full of shops with an attractive awning.

Howard and Myra are saying "Hey, Nancy, recognize this?" It is quite modern and busy. (Like Bay Terrace)

St. Agnes' Church

The Church where Mum was baptized and where our grandparents were married was undergoing repairs, courtesy of the Thompson Brothers, so said the sign. The Reverend Jones was pastor and a long time family friend back in the old days.

The County School

There were always some kind of arguments over which school was the best, the County or the Secondary SEC. Nancy went to the county, which like the church, was undergoing restoration. We arrived at knock-off time with students looking very neat.  Howard remembered the Maths teacher that inspired him to go on and make mathematics his life career. Some famous politicians (besides the Thompsons) have attended this school.

Bath Street

Here is the old homestead in a street that looks like it has been lovingly looked after. The house next door was for sale. The stories of the girls, Myra and Nancy, sharing in the room above the front door- the main living room to the left where Howard recalled how many times Grandmother had regaled him with her plans to go to Australia and visit the Costello's.

For a name like Bath street, interesting to know that this was one thing the house did not have- a bathroom! It did get one eventually, I was assured!

The Coach House

Myra insisted I take this shot. It shows the characteristic hills at the back of the town, but more significantly, it shows the white coach house at the back of Bath Street where great-grandfather John housed his carriage. He was the first to provide a horse driven taxi for the town, taking people down to Aberavan beach and back.

There was a hay loft atop the coach house where Nancy vividly recalls playing as a kid.

The Sheik of Araby Story

There is a story about the Coach House (sounds very grand for such a building). Your mother and Dot when they were quite  young used to put on shows in the Coach House for their friends.

Admission was by safety-pin (to help keep their makeshift costumes together!)
Seats were planks of wood resting on boxes or buckets whichever was to hand.

On one occasion they put on a lavish production of "The Sheik of Araby", with
Dot taking the lead. All went well until until a boy in the audience (Stucky
Dolan I think, your Mother will correct this) called out to Dot
"Have you got your Mother's knickers on?"
She did actually and was so mortified that she left the stage which ended that particular performance.

Her Ladyship, Rae

We caught Rae on the night she was standing down from being President of the Women's Guild- and to make sure we believed her, brought out her chain of office that would have made Chancellor Thomas More green with envy.

Rae's home in Port Talbot has been the traditional meeting place for the family  to meet and greet its visitors from Down Under. Rae always lays out a Welsh feast of laver bread and other delights.

We gathered and met up with John and Eileen and Dyllis.  ( We missed meeting "Bush")

A Search for the Graves

We searched the graveyard beside St. Mary's Church, around the block from where Aunty May used to live, in Forge Road, and found the grave of my Great Grandparents, Thomas and Anne Banks.

There are two white stones on the grave as well, belonging to two sons, Thomas Banks died 1918, aged 29 years, and George Banks, died 1920, aged 25 years. 

Later, we discovered that Thomas snr. is not actually buried here, and that he bowed out of the family picture long before he died. We went in search of the other side of the family but the tombs were so much the worse for wear that we didn't find it.

Goytre

Outside of town, up among the beautiful hills and beside fields with sheep grazing, we went to visit grandparent Thompson's grave. Myra bought some fresh flowers and we paid our visit, and said a quiet prayer in a wonderful setting among the hills.

We crossed the road to visit cousin Vernon's grave, but by that time, my little camera had given out. Myra has the photos which she is sending to be put on the site.

Muriel vividly remembers the funeral of Vernon where at the graveyard, it was an all male affair-the women did not come into the graveyard and the military salute of guns firing accompanied his final resting.

A Family Pilgrimage

To have spent time with my parents and their family, walking back with them to their places of origin is to experience a sense of gratitude and awe, and of a larger connection to people and places that I have never known except through the memory of Mum and Dad.

It provides what we call in our narrative work, a longevity of memory, where we no longer feel trapped in the instant moments of what is contemporary or relevant. We realize that our lives are part of a continuing tradition, and what we have faced and will face up ahead are all there in the stories of our families. In that tradition, no matter where we live, there are no foreigners. Only cousins that you have never met.

Nostar.